


Crash Landing

by yogkabob



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alien Character(s), Backstory, Gen, Slow Build, Space Pirates, a lot of the place-slowly-becomes-home trope, space pirate!xephos, very honeyphos-y at first then slowly builds into honeyphosna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogkabob/pseuds/yogkabob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How exactly does Xephos end up on Minecraftia?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was on top of the universe. Gun in his hands and money in his pockets, neither thing nor body could so much as touch him. Several ships, gone, spun into free orbit after flames licked the inside clean, no one to blame but him. He didn’t kill anybody—he always waited until the last man could be seen fleeing the scene—but he stole. He took and thieved and disposed of any evidence with fire, the oxygen tanks always providing an amusing bang when it reached them. Only an ash-covered shell of any machinery remained after he was finished stripping the pockets and vaults of a ship’s cargo. No home planet was willing to claim him.

Although Xephos was like no other, and worked on a path that nobody but him dared take, there was one thing that linked him with everybody else. It was something so obvious that not a soul would have thought of it, yet everyone despises it. No matter the planet, no matter the galaxy, one thing stood in the way.

And that was gravity.

The blue and green planet was odd enough already, with a sharp edge to its shape instead of a sphere. He couldn’t recall ever hearing of a planet such as this; it must be his lucky day. He figured it would be a perfect hiding spot to wait out the trail of authorities that were only a few hours behind his tail. There was not much time left, so he was hasty about dipping into the atmosphere and beginning his descent.

The pod he was piloting—stolen, mind you—began to shudder and groan beneath his fingertips. He cursed under his breath, flipping a few switches and hoping to whatever god that ruled this planet that it would be enough to get him safely to the ground. Nothing worked; the gravity was far stronger than he originally thought, pulling him closer to the ground at a more and more alarming speed. This wouldn’t be the first time he crash landed; every time he’d barely escaped with his life. He hoped it would end better than the last few times, but as the ground got closer and closer to him, he wasn’t entirely sure it would.

—-

The first thing he noticed was the pain searing through his face and arm. The first thing to past his lips on the surface of this new planet was a pathetic moan. The first thing he tasted was blood mixed with something else—something dark and bitter and gritty. It laced his teeth and tongue and almost dared him to vomit, but instead he drooled out as much as he consciously could (effectively spitting on himself and ending up in an even more pathetic state than before). He felt heavy, like he couldn’t move, but he managed to open his eyes enough to almost instantly be blinded by the glaring light streaming into his eyes.

That must be the star I saw earlier, he thought to himself, not quite ready for words. Their sun.

He was in the open; he knew that much. To him, that was almost as bad at being dead. The open is where things could see you, where people like him died. He had to move.

Mustering all the strength he had, Xephos pushed himself up, trying not to let himself fall back over when the pain returned to his right arm. The pod behind him was barely even scrap metal now, buried halfway into the substance he was walking on. Broken glass crunched beneath his boots, already having sliced open his palms and probably his face. There was no way to tell where the blood was coming from now, and it didn’t matter; he had to hide.

It took a while, but walking eventually became an easy pattern to follow in his head. (Step here, step again, breathe, step again, and step here…) His good hand was hovering above his gun—it was chipped and bent and he honestly wasn’t sure if it worked—the entire time, ready to defend himself, while his injured one was tucked close to his side like a broken wing. He didn’t know where he was going, but snow had replaced the glass under his feet and he decided that would be a good direction. Snow was the one of the few familiar things to him, something that he’d encountered through his various travels. The sun shone brightly above him, but, no matter the planet, night always came. All he had to do was find someone he could buy something off of. A new gun was his first priority, but a ship would be greatly appreciated.

Now, he had  _some_  morals; he wasn’t going to invade a planet and immediately cause a fuss. He stuck to stealing from the fast-paced orbit shipping for a reason.

The pattern hadn’t lead him astray yet, but he was getting tired and weary. He was walking atop a thick layer of ice when he realized he should rest, at least for a while. Not even con men like him could last on the fumes of his own blood, a pocket full of stolen currency, and a broken gun. When he looked behind him he saw that his footsteps were becoming staggered, and the occasional drop of blood hit the snow even though he was sure he’d stopped the bleeding long before. Ice proved a very poor mirror, and he was left to only guess what state his face was in. It seemed pretty hopeless, as he saw no other footsteps in the snow, not even old ones. The ache in his arm stung with the wind, but the cold numbed the rest of him, which he was thankful for. Sunshine was just warm enough on his back to keep his blood really pumping, but he was awaiting the disappearance of that as well. Although the cold would probably get to him, snow was still his safest bet that he’d seen someone’s footprints before they saw him. If there was anybody, that is.

The daytime went on uneventfully. He walked, he rested, he walked, then rested, and continued on until he reached a space on the ground that was relatively snow free. Tall majestic trees kept the snow from getting past their prickly canopy, but they were different from any tree that Xephos had seen before. Instead of leaves they had waxy green needles that almost hurt when he touched them. It was odd indeed, but it provided a spot to hopefully wait out the night; he had the feeling he wouldn’t be doing much sleeping, but he’s gone weeks without sleep. One sleepless night won’t kill him.

But what might kill him is what’s in it.

Nighttime did indeed fall. The light dissipated in shades, one after another, until Xephos could barely see his own filthy hand in front of his face. He cradled his arm with his uninjured one, keeping as quiet as possible. Blood had crusted around his nose and mouth and he could still taste the gritty substance that made him want to take a few hearty sips of whatever liquid he could find. His red and black travelling suit did a good enough job at keeping him dry and warm, but it was torn and would obviously not suffice forever. He kept calm, though; that’s the biggest part of surviving being shot at, so he could only assume it applied then as well. Leaning against the dark trunk of the tree, he tried his best to rest and be prepared for tomorrow.

Sleep did not come, and he floated between consciousness and dreaming, aware of the cold sapping at his warmth while imagining himself back running from people who wanted him dead. He remained like that for a few hours, and probably would have for even longer if it wasn’t for the sound of eerie gurgling echoing from the trees around him. He inhaled sharply, lifting his head and blinking blearily into the darkness surrounding him. When it didn’t continue, he began to think he could have imagined it, but it started again, this time followed by shallow wheezing and the sound of shuffling footsteps. Xephos was to his feet in an instant, heart beating and eyes straining to see anything approaching him. His hand was rested on the hilt of his gun. The wheezing echoed again, this time closer, the slow stomping footsteps of looming danger getting closer as well. It sounded like more than one, and a faint clinking could be heard amidst it all. As he was about to turn around, a throaty snarl caught him off guard before freezing cold hands clamped around both of his arms. He let out a panicked shout, writhing away quicker than the pain could register in his injured arm. Adrenaline fueled the rest and he ran, albeit not very quickly. He could hardly tell where he was going and the branches of the strange and painful trees continuously struck against his face as he attempted to fruitlessly dodge both them and the monsters. Another one lurched from the shadows and grabbed at him again, and he was face to face with whatever the hell it was.

It looked a bit like him; two legs, two arms, and a head, but the rest was completely off. Its skin was a sickly green and bones looked as if they were attempting to push past the flesh. Sockets for eyes, even darker than the pitch black around them. Its face looked melted, flesh and skin hanging by mere strands off the yellowish skull that lay beneath, teeth bared and gums peeling away, the nose nothing but a chipped ridge of festering bone.  It smelled of death and decay and it took a whole new level of control not to scream or vomit right then and there.  Its nails dug into Xephos’ arms, grip so tight for something that shouldn’t be standing in the first place, and he ripped himself away. His elbow met with the monster’s throat, chunks of jelly-like fat and tendons easily sliding off of the windpipe and snapping its head back violently. It stumbled and he took his chance to run again, panic rising within him as he sprinted against the freezing wind. Clinking and hissing arose around him— another monster?

The light of the rising sun was a barely visible shade of pink against the dark blue sky. It would be another thirty minutes or so before it would make a real difference vision wise, but it was a hope that he clung on to desperately. He tried catching his breath. The trees were thinning out and the snow was not as heavy as before, which was good for him but also the monsters. Dread had basically overtaken him, but his heart was still pumping the urge to run all through him, so he did. He heard the clinking again, closer, then the whistling of a projectile hum past his ear. Foolishly, he let shock and curiosity overcome him and he turned around. Beneath a tree was a skeleton. Different than anything he’s seen before, but the size of those other things. It was just as sickening, as well.

From what he could see, it completely defied everything he’s ever agreed upon, but that’s not what was worse. Dried and mummified flesh hung from the bones, staining them the same sick yellow as the others. Tendons and ligaments remained at the joints, keeping it together, although they were also dry and rotting. Its entire lower jaw was gone, missing, giving it the image of screaming. Its eyes were empty as well, hollow and dark and gone. It moved fluidly, quickly, giving something so dead the illusion of life. A ragged bow was held in its fingers, already drawing back what looked like an arrow, it aimed towards the space man again and he decided to keep running. The arrow clipped his shoulder, tearing the fabric and just scraping past the skin. He hissed to himself and tried not to stagger, but it was difficult. The frigid air was getting to him and breathing began to sting. He made sure nothing else was following him before stopping again, panting and gasping and nearly choking on his own breath. A few trees surrounded him, but they were far enough apart that it looked easy to navigate though. Snow had settled in a thin sheet upon the land. Small icicles graced the tips of a few needle-tree limbs. It would be beautiful scenery if it wasn’t for the creatures trying to kill him.

Although his guard was up—and, quite frankly, never went down—Xephos didn’t hear the quiet breathing of another flesh monster until its icy hands were clamped around his throat, squeezing with the grip that it should never have had in the first place. He choked aloud, trying to lurch away but finding no window of opportunity. His hands frantically tried to push it away; when that didn’t work, he managed to fumble at his belt and grab his gun. If there was a time for it to work, it was now. He gasped for breath and fought to see through the growing fuzz around the corners of his vision as he pressed the barrel against what he hoped was its head. The trigger gave beneath his finger and a deafening boom rolled through the fields of snow, soon followed by the thump of the monster’s body. He coughed and his whole body rattled with it, tears forming in his eyes at the temporary lack of air in his lungs. The gun was haphazardly shoved back into its hold before he sprinted again and began to push his body to its limit. He only made it a few feet before chittering and hissing spilled down from the tree next to him. This time, there was no chance for him to look; whatever it was leaped down and hit his back with a thud, causing him to lurch forward and slip down past a slope of frozen mud. The water below was frozen but gave way as soon as he collided with it. He plunged into icy water that immediately stole whatever air he had left inside of him. His limbs went stiff, his legs stopped kicking, and his head dipped underwater before he desperately tried to bring himself back up again. The cold made the cuts on his face and palms sting and the scrape of the arrow throb until he wasn’t sure he could move.  The ice he clawed at continuously gave way beneath him and water began to fill his chest. Nothing he did helped, no amount of shouting and screaming and choking he did helped keep the darkness away from his vision and the burning away from his lungs.

The only thing he could do was hope that something miraculous would happen. His cries slowly became nothing more than the gurgles of the flesh monster that had awoken him earlier, until he was shouting into a type of darkness that couldn’t be solved by the morning sun.

—

His arm really hurt. His throat stung and the sweat of his palms seeped into the cuts, making Xephos clench his teeth when he tried to move. None of this was a new experience.

What was new, however, was the solid floor beneath him and the feeling of warmth on his skin. Dazed, he tried to decipher what he could about the situation. He hadn’t been captured, had he? The energy to make an escape was most certainly not with him, and he couldn’t feel his gun at his side. (Not that it would make much difference; it was probably soaked beyond repair, if it wasn’t sitting at the bottom of a water pool— which was odd, because he was not.) Unless it was some cruel illusion provided by death itself, which he doubted, he was still wet, still cold, and still alive. Absorbed by his thoughts and still very fatigued, he didn’t hear the door open until a clunk bounced softly from the walls and he was thrown into alert. This was mainly fueled from the fact he didn’t realize that the door—or walls, for that matter— existed in the first place. He nearly leaped out of his skin while letting out a startled shout, receiving an equally shocked noise from someone or something that certainly wasn’t him. For a moment, Xephos was back in the woods, all previous pain forgotten, surrounded by creatures made of death and terror. The walls melded into darkness and he blindly swept his legs to the side in attempt to stand up and get away. Foreign protests fell on ears that heard nothing but a thumping heart. His muscles were still weak and quivering, however, so his knees buckled beneath him and his mad dash to safety– whatever his idea of ‘safety’ happened to be– was cut short. He caught himself with his outstretched hands, his arm and palms screaming in protest. As quickly as the images flooded his mind, they drained from it, leaving him swallowing back vomit and gasping for air.

“Holy shit, are you alright?“

He tensed and slowly looked up from his previous position of facing the floor. There was no way to tell if the rumbley voice belonged to friend or foe. Given his current condition, however, there wasn’t much Xephos could do about it.

He was staring into the eyes of a ginger-bearded organism; one that held a similar body structure, but seemed incredibly smaller. He would have deduced further, but his mind churned and strained to recall the language was being spoken to him.

"M-… Monsters?” was all he could sputter. Of course it was English; and what a strange dialect. Not particularly his strong suit, but he could make do with what he knew.

The organism smiled in an almost pleased manner, gesturing around the room. “Ain’t no monsters spawning here. I lit this place up like a Christmas tree.”

Whatever a ‘Christmas tree’ was, it must be very bright, because torches littered the walls around them and provided a calming glow of light. It was a kind of glow that Xephos would soon learn to depend on.

He moved to sit up, but pain stopped him for the umpteenth time. “A-Ah…” he groaned, inhaling sharply and quickly releasing the pressure off of his injuries. A hand settled lightly on his shoulder, causing him to jump, but it was only the one that had presumably helped him in the first place. However weary, Xephos allowed himself to be helped up with minimal discomfort. He was mildly surprised that someone so short could lift him so well.

“…Um… Thank.”

The other laughed lightheartedly, waving it off. “No problem, friend. You look like you can use all the help you can get. The zombies got to you, eh?”

Xephos blinked at him; he was unfamiliar with the word. “Z-Zombies…?”

Calloused hands hovered over the tears in the sleeves of his suit. “Zombies,” they echoed. “Nasty bastards. What got your hands 'nd face, though? Spiders?”

Xephos’ suspicions about his face were confirmed, and he lifted a hand to brush his fingers over the scabbing slices in his skin. “…Glass.”

It was frustratingly difficult to respond at a reasonable pace, but the other waited patiently each time Xephos took just a little too long to recall the right words; a small comfort in a sea of confusing new things. The other’s hand still remained hovered above his arm, but he found that he didn’t mind much.

“Oh. Well, then, I ought to get you some plasters. Don’t move.”

The shorter of the two finally drew back their own hands and walked towards a wooden box. Xephos watched as they rumaged around, the sound of tools clinking together softly while they looked.

“You… name?” Xephos asked quietly, hoping to gather some information on the person who was being so considerate. They didn’t speak until they had gathered what they were looking for; starch white gauze was held in their hand as they turned to look at him again.

“The name’s Honeydew, mate, the only dwarf around. The pleasure’s all mine.”

They held out their free hand, glancing at Xephos expectantly. The space man swallowed, as he was not entirely sure why Honeydew was doing so, but replied as smoothly as he could.

“U-Uh, my name. Xephos.”

Oh! Of course. The gauze, right? Xephos thought to himself, hastily placing his hand against Honeydew’s outstretched one. They must want to apply it now.

He barely noticed Honeydew’s expression of surprise which quickly softened into humor. “Guessing you don’t shake hands where you come from,” the dwarf murmured, taking Xephos’ hand and gently wrapping the bandages around his palm nonetheless. "Never quite seen anyone with _blue_ blood before, either." Although a tad confused by the comments, Xephos didn’t speak until the process on his hands was completed. He wiggled his fingers and smiled hesitantly.

“Many thanks.”

Honeydew smiled in return, and Xephos’ smile turned into a sheepish grin. He hadn’t had this much face to face conversation in years, not to mention physical touch. Although it felt nice, he was almost unnerved by the way his guard absolutely melted beneath Honeydew’s watch.

“No problem, friend,” Honeydew replied. They released Xephos’ hand and he fell immediately back into a state of unrest. Before the silence could stretch on, Honeydew glanced at Xephos’ bad arm– which was still cradled against his side – and frowned.

“What happened?”

A confused “um” escaped Xephos’ mouth before he could register the impact of the question. What was he to say? “I was running from authority and crashed a stolen ship because of my panicked carelessness”? He couldn’t risk losing the only alliance he currently had; or worse, he’s turned in like the criminal he is. He rattled his mind.

“Accident.”

Perfect, not vague at all!  

“…Oh. I’m guessing that’s all I’m going to get out of you.” Honeydew looked at him in an expecting manner while Xephos nodded quickly. “That’s fine. Now, don’t move,” they said, despite the fact the other had not moved since their conversation began, “I’ll have to get some more plasters and maybe a stick 'r two, but I’ll wrap that arm up and everything will be peachy.”

Wrapping his arm was by far the worst. He grit his teeth and bit back whimpers while the dwarf aligned the clearly fractured bone as gently as they could. He’s felt pain far worse– gun shots, stabbing, bones being snapped in two– but it never dampens other injuries. Thankfully, the homemade splint did its job and his arm no long felt unusable by the end of it all.

“There we go.” Honeydew gave a soft pat atop the layers of silky bandage, not enough to agitate the bruises and cuts beneath. “Good as new.”

“Thank you, for help.” Xephos smiled. He hadn’t smiled to anyone but himself in ages. Flashes of teeth to traders and other thieves he knew would betray him, but never a smile so warm. It felt nice. “I, uh, go. You have… places for… trade?” The sentence took a while to construct but he felt like he got the point across. Honeydew’s smile dropped into confusion as Xephos moved to get up.

“Leaving? Mate, you haven’t got a single sword on you! Where do you think you’re going with an arm like that?”

Xephos was to his feet and standing. It was only now did he realize how drastic their height difference was. Honeydew’s chubby legs barely brought them to his waist. He looked outside; the sun was still bright in the sky and he couldn’t see a single monster. Only those spiky trees and green plants sprouting from the ground.

“I am leaving. I will trade for, er, better…” he gestured to where his gun had been held at his waist. It was still missing. Honeydew shook their head.

“Ain’t anyone trading with you, friend. There’s no one for miles around. You’ll be dead before you find anyone!” Honeydew was clearly displeased. They placed themself in front of the wooden door with crossed arms. Xephos frowned, not wanting to use force after gaining the trust of them. Why is this individual so concerned with the doings of a stranger? A criminal? “You can stay with me– no, scratch that, you  _are_  staying with me. Here. I’d be no less than a murderer to let ya leave!”

'Here’ was big enough; stone walls and a floor the same wood as the door. Chests had been shoved up against the walls here and there, and the red bed that he’d once been resting in was just across from a roaring fire that cast warmth against his skin. Metal bars were in front of it to keep the flames from jumping to the wood before it. A small wooden workbench and a few hollow, stone, box-like objects were tucked next to the door.

“But… I am fine.” It was a lie. A filthy lie, but Xephos stood his ground until the glaring of the ginger dwarf before him brought him to surrender. Staying until he was well enough to fight against foes would probably be the most practical thing to do, anyways. He scratched at his bandaging nervously. “You are very… convincing.”

He couldn’t help but smile when Honeydew did. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a while for Xephos to realize where home is, but Honeydew is patient.

After the first night of consciousness, Xephos had tried not to get attached; he caught himself actually enjoying the company and vowed to put it to an end. In the beginning, he only spoke to Honeydew when necessary or in reply to them. All laughter was one-sided. If there was one thing more deadly than enemies, he had learned, it was emotions. He had watched people die for their friends, for their partners; _giving_ themselves into custody to protect others. It was a shame.

His language was slowly improving. He suspected that a lot of the new words he was picking up were more dwarven lingo than anything important, but made no effort to cease the “friend”, “bugger”, and “mate” that mysteriously managed to slip into his everyday thoughts. No matter; he was learning, and that’s all he cared about. His wounds were slowly healing. The cuts on his face were mere lines now, and it no longer hurt to smile. His arm was still plastered, but the puncture wound on his shoulder had healed closed.  He could walk across the room without tiring. It was progress, and he could live with that.

Through all of this, Xephos thought that he was doing well. The lack of emotions that he displayed was something he eventually brought himself to be proud of. He helped around the house, did what he needed, and that was it. Before he knew it, he would be able to leave without a second thought! Not much attention had been paid in Honeydew’s direction in fear that he’d end up grinning like a fool again. So, to say the least, it was huge surprise when Honeydew approached him without warning one evening and settled a beefy hand over his forehead. Xephos froze.

“Um?” He couldn’t really conjure a sentence in English to describe his confusion. Honeydew’s tongue poked out from between their teeth in concentration. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard for a few moments.

“You’ve been acting so damn funny, lately! You running a fever?” The question was gruff and displeased. There was no point in Honeydew checking his temperature; they knew nothing about Xephos’ body or what the norm was. That didn’t stop them, though, from looking into Xephos’ dark eyes with the utmost concern. It made the space man feel all of the things he’d been trying to avoid.

“Yes! I am not sick,” Xephos argued. His words came to him much quicker than before. Honeydew reluctantly removed their hand, but still stood with crossed arms next to the bed Xephos was nested in.

“You sure? I feel like I’m bein’ a fuck-all host to you.”

Xephos cringed. It had been the last of his intentions to make Honeydew feel bad. The dwarf was being _more_ than generous by letting a complete stranger stay in their home. “N-No, no! You are very kind.”

The unsure, almost sad look that Honeydew gave him wiped away all distance that Xephos had put between them. He couldn’t help it. His barriers were in shambles; he finally allowed himself to feel something. He didn’t know what or why, but it felt good. If he was stuck there, he might as well learn a few things.

\---

Honeydew took him under his wing after that. Before, Xephos would sit in the cave and wait the days away, thinking about all the ways to escape the mucky green planet and where he’d go. But Honeydew showed him the rest of the land and the creatures, and Xephos was fascinated. An entire day was dedicated to learning all about the glorious new creatures call cows, although Honeydew was more concerned about the food they provided. The bellowing sounds they made absolutely enthralled Xephos and he insisted on repeating the sounds back to them. The cows seemed less than amused. Honeydew showed him how to till the ground and cover the seeds with dirt. They placed a fistful of damp soil into Xephos’ palm; he sucked in a sharp breath and jerked away when it touched his skin. The smell and texture brought back a flood of memories. Memories of shattered glass, of broken bones and torn skin, of numbing cold that lead to darkness. Honeydew decided the farming lesson could wait a little while longer. They made sure to take him back in before night fell.

Xephos was busy repairing his belt one evening when he caught Honeydew’s attention. The room was dim but bright enough to ward away any bad thoughts. All across Xephos’s dark olive skin were electric blue freckles brought out by the sun of the past few days’ activities.

“Mate... are your freckles bloody _glowing_?” The blue blood, Honeydew could accept. The pointed ears, who cares? But glowing freckles were something completely new. Xephos looked up, looked around, then down at his own skin. The soft waves of light seemed to brighten at the sheepishness brought on by the sudden attention, almost like a blush. Honeydew bit the inside of their cheek to keep themself from cooing loudly, as they had a tendency to do. “That’s incredible,” they remarked instead. “You’re quite the mystery, eh?”

Xephos pursed his lips and looked away. He hoped and prayed that Honeydew didn’t begin to ask questions; he didn’t want to lie to them, but the truth wasn’t something to be given out. “... No mystery,” he said quietly, shaking his head. Honeydew picked up on his discomfort and quickly dropped the subject, but their eyes occasionally flicked back to Xephos’ gently dotted skin. They kicked back in their wool-lined chair.

“Would you like to join me tomorrow?” They spoke lowly and quietly at first, knowing that Xephos was deep in concentration; he jumped a little, but it was an improvement from his original panic. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Join?” he echoed. Honeydew nodded, then gestured to the rusty iron pickaxe propped against the door frame. Xephos looked at it in confusion.

“We’re running low on supplies. I figured I could show you the rocks-- er, the actual rocks, I suppose.” They cut themself off in favor of a short giggle. Xephos didn’t understand what was so funny but hesitantly smiled anyways. “But, really, I wanna show you the way of the dwarfs! Interesting stuff.”

The way Honeydew’s eyes lit up talking about mines and the treasures beneath the ground had always interested Xephos. Helping with supplies was better than sitting around and staring at cows all day anyways, he figured. Knowing what he could about other cultures had helped him through some very tight squeezes before; he wasn’t about to pass up on a chance to learn about dwarven culture! It may come in handy once he left. And he _will_ leave, even if he wasn’t sure why. It’s what he’s been telling himself since he realized he was trapped there, at least.

“I would much enjoy helping.”

\---

Xephos didn’t take into account the fact that Honeydew was so much damn shorter than him. He had been stooped over for a solid five minutes while he followed the dwarf-- who fit through the small tunnel perfectly-- with the promise of a little more space. It never came, though. It was dusty and cold, and even smelled so. The torches littering the walls illuminated their way. Gravel crunched beneath their feet.

“I found a nice system the other day and never got a chance to check it out. It’ll be nice to have another set of eyes looking out for goodies!” Honeydew remarked. Xephos made a small “hm” in reply. Finally, the tunnel began to widen and the stone around them looked a bit more staggered and natural. Xephos straightened up in relief and let out a short breath of pleasure. The light within the cave was slowly getting dimmer apart from the much more spaced out torches on the floor and wall. He was already a bit on edge when Honeydew stopped suddenly, turning to face him. They looked serious.

“Alright, friend, this is a new cave. I haven’t had a chance to put down any light yet. There may be monsters.”

Monsters. That word sent a sharp chill through Xephos’ spine. As soon as he was about to back out, tell Honeydew he was sorry, he just couldn’t do it, the dwarf put a hand on his waist. The small action felt so grounding. Xephos looked back down at him in surprise. “Don’t worry, though, okay? I won’t let none of them get you.” The sword at Honeydew’s waist glinted dangerously. “You can go back home if it gets too much, but... I think this will be good for you. Since your arm is still banged up, you can stick to the torches, alright?”

Xephos swallowed thickly. His fingers were beginning to tremble, and he wasn’t so sure if he agreed with Honeydew, but he took the stack of torches from the dwarf anyways and stared at them. Honeydew explained to him how to light them off of other torches and where to place them; the more light, the less monsters. Just behind Honeydew was a gaping mouth of a wide cave, engulfed in darkness. With a final deep breath Xephos was ready to follow-- or so he thought. Within minutes he had places dozens of torches along the floor and walls in a slight panic. He heard fluttering and shrill squeaking just above his head; he ducked, fearful, but Honeydew was quick to assure him that the noise was just a ‘bat’. They couldn’t do a lick of harm to you, they explained as they carefully retrieved a few excess torches from the floor and placed them back into Xephos’ clammy hands. They moved on.

In the span it took to go through a stack and a half of torches-- with the recycling help of Honeydew-- Xephos had learned about the mysterious pale clumps jutting out from the stone ( _i-run_ , apparently) and the dark flecks of material that seemed to be at every turn ( _cool_ , or something of that nature). He’d distracted himself by looking for and pointing out all the ores he saw. Honeydew nodded, though eventually stopped going for the minerals, claiming they had enough for the time being.

“Honeydew,” Xephos called out again for the umpteenth time. The dwarf didn’t even turn around. “What ore is this?” The word ‘ore’ didn’t roll off his tongue like almost every other word; instead it almost stumbled, like he was forcing himself to say it so precisely. He pointed at a yellow-ish ore tucked behind a few large boulders. Honeydew finally looked, and their eyes widened in surprise.

“Shit, Xephos, we found gold!” They were to the ‘gold’ in an instant, crouching over it and inspecting the quality. The stone around it was chipped away to see just how much was actually there; about three bars worth, Honeydew said happily. “We dwarfs can’t get enough of the stuff, even though it is a tad useless.” They grunted as they brought the pick crashing down onto the ore, releasing an echoing rattle with every strike. Soon, the materials were safely tucked away in Honeydew’s leather pack, and they moved on. Xephos’ freckles looked like tiny galaxies under the praise he received for having such a sharp eye.

He was just starting to think that the caves weren’t so bad. The bats were rather charming, and the natural formations were actual sort of pleasing to the eye. As soon as Honeydew’s pack was overflowing with valuables, they decided to turn back. (Xephos expressed concern regarding getting back, but Honeydew claimed that dwarfs never lost their way. He wanted to believe them.) Several smaller branches were left untouched, but Honeydew said they could come back to it another day. The walk was slow and full of conversation; mainly questions from Xephos.

Honeydew would help him when he struggled for words or pronunciation, but for the most part answered as best they could. A few seconds of silence was what really got their attention. They turned around, thick eyebrows raised, but all confusion was replaced with alarm.

 

Xephos had gone pale in the orange light of the torches. His pupils were almost pinpricks and the musty air rushed raggedly into his lungs in a choking gasp. “M-M-M--...!” There was no need for him to finish the sentence; Honeydew knew already. Directly in the center of Xephos’ terrified stare was a zombie. It’s sightless senses were dull, though, so it was unable to get past the stalactites jutting from the ceiling and thick boulders before it. That meant nothing to Xephos. The faded scratches on his face burned and his old bruises suddenly felt new again. Honeydew was quick in killing it; they plunged the sword deep into its throat and slammed the hilt into its head for good measure. The body disintegrated into dust but Xephos still fought the urge to vomit. Out of all the things that he’s faced-- hitmen, police, skeevy con artists, black-market dealers, _murderers_ \-- the monsters had managed to brand themselves into his mind and never let go. They were the first enemies he’d faced without weapons or words; they were the first enemies that didn’t have a reason to want him dead but did so anyways.

 

“Alright, friend, you’re safe now,” Honeydew said quietly. They placed their hand on the small of his back and rubbed tiny circles through the cloth. Xephos shuddered but nodded. “We’re going home now. You’re going home.”

 

Xephos didn’t argue that Honeydew’s house wasn’t his home. He didn’t even think it.

 

\--

 

“I’m sorry, Xephos.”

 

A quick shake of his head. His now fluffy hair bounced from the movement. “No.”

 

“I shouldn’t have taken you down there.”

 

“I have-- had, um, fun. Nice fun.”

 

It was a few hours later after the encounter. The sun had dipped past the horizon and the two sat quietly in the cabin while some porkchops cooked away in the oven. It mingled with the metallic smell of the ores smelting away in the furnaces on the other end of the house. The smell wasn’t the most pleasant, but it was comforting and helped bring down Xephos’ frazzled nerves. A few feet across from him, Honeydew sat very quietly save for the apologies tumbling from their mouth. It was rare that the dwarf was so silent on nice nights like those.

 

“If ya call panic attacks fun,” they mumbled. Xephos frowned again. He could have gone without the interruption from the zombie, but exploring with Honeydew and finding so many brand new things was fun in the most terrifying way. It wasn’t Honeydew’s fault that Xephos just happened to look over there. He wasn’t sure how to make them understand that.

 

“I… I’m fine. The zombie is not here!” Xephos almost whined. One of the most feared space rebels was on the verge of pouting because this little dwarf simply wouldn’t believe him. Maybe distracting them was the key. He noticed how Honeydew has a pad of paper and a clump of charcoal in their hand. “What… What are you doing with that?” he asked, gesturing to the tools. Honeydew looked up, mouth still a thin line but eyes a little more concentrated than displeased. They squinted at Xephos for a moment, then looked back down to the paper. For a moment, Xephos thought his question had been ignored.

 

“‘M just doing a bit of drawing. Your clothes are all torn up and I figure it’s about time for you to get some new ones.”

 

“Are you going to _make_ clothes for I-- me?” It was actually a very good idea. If the authorities were to actually find Xephos, a change of appearance was just what he needed. Apart from that, the temporary travel suit wasn’t exactly the most comfortable garment in the world. Something different was really a good investment. The topic had been successfully changed; they spent the rest of the night talking about where Honeydew learned to sew and measuring Xephos’s lanky arms and legs. His waist, chest, and shoulders were all marked down dutifully on the paper in strange units that Xephos didn’t recognize. Honeydew was convinced they had a design that would fit Xephos perfectly; he was surprised with how quickly they worked. Within a few hours, the moon was still shining silvery pale light past the window panes and Xephos was curled up in bed. But Honeydew continued to sew and clip and measure away.

 

In two days-- which were filled with many stitches and lots of thread, and Xephos moping around with the cows while Honeydew worked-- the clothes were complete. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Xephos’s freckles glittered with light and his eyes were wide with love. A simple shirt striped white and blue like the sky and pants that were so brown they were almost black. With it came a maroon red jacket that was lined with golden-yellow near the cuffs and split. It took him a mere few minutes to fit into the new clothes. The fabric was a new and odd feeling on his skin but posed no real problem.

 

“Thank you, friend!” Xephos said loudly and happily. Honeydew grinned sheepishly. Not often did they get embarrassed but the way Xephos glowed with joy simply made their cheeks flush. (Luckily their beard covered most of it.)

 

“It’s no problem, really… I had fun making it. I’m glad you like it.”

 

Xephos spent the rest of the day thanking Honeydew and pointing out all the things he loved about the clothes. He liked that they fit. He liked that the shirt was striped. He liked the jacket. Needless to say, Honeydew spent a lot of the day simply drowning in compliments. Xephos had never been shown so much hospitality from anyone in years. He had to make sure they knew how thankful he really was.

 

That night, however, when Honeydew was sweeping up the spare scraps of cloth and tucking away their sewing kit, they asked an innocent yet incredibly heavy question. It was composed of nothing but pure curiosity but Xephos felt his chest tighten under the pressure that didn’t exist.

 

“So, when do you plan on setting out on that grand adventure of yours?”

 

He could have just mumbled “I don’t know,” but he really didn’t. His eyes went a little blank as his head churned. Honeydew looked at him, a bit concerned.

 

He came to a realization. Hospitality was something he enjoyed. He didn’t want to go back to the world of hostility and violence. Never again did he want to look down the barrel of a gun or hear the sound of authorities’ commands. Minecraftia had a bad habit of shying away from all other worlds and their news; no one knew who he was. The authorities would have captured him long ago if they’d followed him here. No doubt they were gone and looking far, far away from him. He wasn’t young anymore; the exciting heart-pounding duty of a pirate was more of a chore than a life. He liked Minecraftia. He liked the trees, he liked the cows. The food was bearable. He liked the landscape.

 

He liked Honeydew.  

 

“I don’t think I am.”

 

Honeydew smiled. It was a smile of warmth and happiness and relief. Xephos smiled back.

 

“Then welcome home, friend.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not really following the SoI plot, just using the location and references from the first few videos as a loose guidline until things pick up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honeydew takes Xephos to meet a mysterious-- and, frankly, quite scary-- new stranger.

‘Home’ had never been a word that Xephos used often. Home bases, maybe, but those changed and moved so often he stopped keeping count. Any house he dared touch was hollowed clean by thievery and rage, be it himself or not, so he stuck to sleeping where he could find when he could. He was by then accustomed to the constant changing of the world around him and the hard of metal beneath his body at night. When he woke up a mere few feet away from Honeydew, however, with soft wool beneath him and familiar stone walls surrounding them, he couldn’t help but smile. The memories of the life he so suddenly dropped still stayed with him (and probably would for the rest of his life) but he focused on other things. Better things, less violent things, like the fire red of Honeydew’s tangled hair in the sunlight. They noticed him looking and grinned sheepishly.

 

“Mornin’,” they said quietly. The calm quiet of the day was not yet ready to be broken, but it was on its way. Although not all too familiar with it, Xephos decided this was what home _felt_ like.

 

“It is morning, yes.” Xephos finally brought himself to push the comfy red blanket from himself. Although his legs were a bit too long for the bed, it was still the most comfortable thing he’s slept on for years and he loved it. He looked forward to doing it again and again. The striped shirt he slept in was crumpled and wrinkled, but he quickly learned that appearance didn’t mean much when working with Honeydew. Maybe that explained why they didn’t wear a shirt? It mattered not, though, and Xephos grabbed his jacket from the back of his headboard. He left behind the utility belt that he brought with him to the planet; it was broken and torn, and held nothing but memories that he wasn’t quite ready to get rid of.

 

“What is today's plan?” he asked as he tugged his arms through the sleeves. Honeydew grabbed two slices of bread from the chest next to the cooking furnace. They tossed one to Xephos then took a thoughtful bite of their own piece.

 

“I think, friend...” they started, drumming their thick fingers against their thigh. “You said you wanted to know about this place, right?”

 

Xephos nodded quickly. Although no longer needing the information for safety, it was nice to learn and know about his new home. “Yes. About everything.” Learning had been something Xephos always treasured, even if he didn’t do much of it. He watched Honeydew delve into thought as he quietly chewed on the fluffy bread.

 

“Everything, huh? That’s what I was thinkin’ of. See, I know someone who could help us with that. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a little teaching lesson now and then.”

 

This mysterious man of knowledge turned out to be someone named Lalna who lived just past the snowy section of their home turf. Honeydew talked about him with much fondness, but didn’t delve into appearance. Xephos was nervous; it was still hard to trust new people, even if they did. Still, the two of them packed a small lunch and headed through the snow. He still felt uneasy near the cold fluff, reminded of the first night he ever spent there, but the sight of Honeydew a few feet in front of him acted as a beacon through the blinding white. He was no longer hurt; his arm was healed and only faint pale lines gave away that any cut had even been there. Soon the snow gave way to damp green grass, and just past a few trees was a strange looking building that Xephos could only guess was a house. It was composed of mismatched stone bricks and supported by pale logs. Instead of entering through the door in front of them however, Honeydew led him around and to the back. Walking through the grassy yard with something slung over his shoulder was a stout, dark-skinned man with straw yellow hair. He looked to be taller than Honeydew but was nowhere near as skinny as Xephos. His coat was a dingy white with mysterious stains all up the sleeves, and his long hair was pulled into a bun. Non-matching goggles sat upon his head.

 

“Lalna!” Honeydew shouted, grinning widely. Xephos subtly took a step behind Honeydew as if it would hide him from the stranger.

 

“Huh?” The _“Lalna”_ man stopped and looked around, seeming almost distracted, but soon he saw the other two and dropped the strange bag he was carrying in favor of walking to the dwarf. “ _Honey!_ ” he cried. “Haven’t seen you in a long time, eh?”

 

He outstretched his hands, probably for a sort of greeting, but Honeydew pulled back. Nearly dripping from his gloved fingers was a gooey purple substance. “Sorry, I’ll pass.”

 

It was, ironically, almost _alienating_ to Xephos to hear them talk so fluidly to each other, so comfortable and familiar. His language had improved substantially, but he still struggled with abbreviations and slang. He watched the interactions silently, almost hoping Lalna wouldn’t notice him.

 

“Who’s your friend?” _Shit_. Xephos took a small breath and squared his shoulders, nodding his head in what he hoped was a universal greeting. It hadn’t failed him yet and so far nothing terrible had happened, so he let his mouth move on autopilot and met Lalna’s eyes.

 

“Nice to meet you, Lalna,” he said, the words flowing off his tongue unlike he’d ever done in front of his friend. It was a basic greeting Xephos had practiced long ago, but was probably the _only_ thing he could say without having to think first. Honeydew stared in surprise but was left unnoticed while Lalna focused on the new company. He quickly realized his mistake, however, when Lalna asked why he was with Honeydew. The words suddenly stumbled again, and he had to think before he spoke.

 

“I- they said you know things.”

 

Lalna, instead of pointing out the sudden lack of fluidity, grinned widely and looked back down to Honeydew. “Ooh,” he said. “Ominous, I like it.”

 

Honeydew quickly explained that Xephos was new. They didn’t state where from, but told Lalna that Xephos wanted to know more about Minecraftia, including the people. Lalna was a people, so he invited them into the house to look around. On the way there, Honeydew jabbed Xephos’ hip with their elbow.

 

“ _‘Nice to meet you’_? Where the hell did that come from?”

 

Xephos laughed nervously. “Lots of practice.” Honeydew shook their head and dropped the topic. Lalna disposed of his gloves and led them through the back door, and inside of the strange home smelled strong like burning and chemicals. They passed by tables stacked with papers and files, and odd things in odd jars. It was a mess, but it did a good job of defining Lalna. Xephos was entranced but Honeydew seemed absolutely numb to the chaos around them. The three finally stopped, and Lalna turned around on his heel to face Xephos. He was grinning.

 

“Lesson number one, my friend,” he said grandly, before turning back around and grabbing a round metal object from the stovetop. It had a long neck to it and a handle. “You _always_ put on the kettle for welcomed guests. Unwelcome guests can fuck off.”

 

Xephos would have laughed if he wasn’t so concentrated on trying to tie the name ‘kettle’ to the object in Lalna’s hand. Honeydew chuckled under their breath and hopped up onto a chair next to a reasonably clean table. Their legs swung an inch or two off the floor, while Xephos’ knees were level with his waist. Calm social interaction was still new to him and he only watched the steam rise up from the ‘kettle’ instead of speaking.  

 

“So, Honey tells me you’re new to here. How new? Where ya from?” Lalna drummed his fingers on the counter while waiting. Xephos blinked and looked up at him. From? What a painfully specific question. He wasn’t really from anywhere, hopelessly bouncing from place to place until he ended up in the lap of this strange blue planet. Honeydew was just as eager as Lalna to hear the answer, but Xephos wasn’t sure if he trusted the blond man in front of him; then again, if Honeydew did, shouldn’t he?

 

“There,” he said simply, almost hoping they didn’t hear him, and half-heartedly pointed a finger towards the ceiling. Both set of eyes followed his gesture as if they expected to see something other than the white tiles above them.

 

“... are you an angel?” Lalna asked quietly. Honeydew would have kicked him if their legs reached.

 

“No, you dunce, space! He’s talking about space.” Their unimpressed glare faltered and they looked back at Xephos. “This _is_ what you mean, right?”

 

At Xephos’ hesitant nod, Lalna laughed and clapped his hands together, steepling his fingers. It was a bit creepy, but his excitement masked all suspicious undertones. “Space! That would explain a lot. Amazing!” It was almost calming to watch Lalna burst with enthusiasm after every few words. He ignored the slowly building whistle of the kettle and leaned towards the space man; Xephos looked at Honeydew with wide eyes as Lalna examined him.

 

“You are so alien! I know a girl from space, too, but she’s way more human. Really nice, but her girlfriend is kind of scary. You don’t happen to also like rainbows, do you?”

 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Honeydew interjected. They hopped from their chair and waved Lalna away, standing protectively in front of Xephos. “The poor guy came here to learn, not for you to experiment on him. And get that bloody kettle before I take him back home!”

 

The frustration behind Honeydew’s voice was real-- so was Lalna’s disappointment-- but the friendly and familiar air between them remained. Lalna quickly grabbed the pot from the heat and poured three cups while Honeydew fussed over Xephos. They brushed off his shoulder and waited for him to relax after such a close encounter with humankind.

 

“I’m sorry, mate, he gets so damn excited sometimes.” Xephos nodded and looked up at the scientist; what a strange human. “We’ll talk about the whole space thing later.”

 

“Oh, come on, Honey! He’s amazing. You do use he, right?” Lalna handed him his drink with a seriousness in his eyes. Xephos nodded-- human gender was strange, but he liked the way ‘him’ sounded. He looked down at the hot cup, watching the small bag seeping out soft swirls into the water before thanking Lalna. ‘The whole space thing’... he knew they were going to ask all the questions he didn’t want to answer. Instead, he asked something before they could.

 

“You two are friends?” It was obvious, but Xephos just wanted to distract them. And it worked; Honeydew grinned, glancing over at Lalna who did the same. If it wasn’t a given by the nicknames and friendly banter, the looks they gave each other was enough.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Honeydew grinned. “I’ve been putting up with his wild science since before his name was Lalna.”

 

For a split second, Xephos thought Lalna was going to reply bitterly, but it was soon clear that the remark was just a friendly jab at their past. In fact, no matter how seemingly rude or sharp their words became, the vibes they gave off were nothing above teasing. They made it seem easy and natural; Xephos wasn’t stupid, though, and knew _not_ to mimic them as he had with everything else. So he stuck to just listening. Not all of their jokes made sense, and sometimes they spoke too fast for him to catch up, but every time one of them would ask for his opinion he would gladly answer. In no way was this the learning he’d been expecting that morning. But, really, was he complaining?

 

Soon he realized the answer was no. Lalna had given him a second serving of the hot brown water, which he graciously sipped away at. None of them seemed to realize how much time had passed until Honeydew so happened to glance at the window. The sky was slowly fading into an orange-yellow glow and they nearly slammed their cup down.

 

“Lal, we gotta go,” they said hurriedly. Lalna blinked at them, slow the process the news. “It’s gonna be dark real soon.”

 

They grabbed Xephos’ hand and tugged. He almost dropped his own cup, from the pure shock of the contact, if not the jolt. It was a flurry of goodbyes and see you soon’s, until the three of them were in the doorway of the front entrance. Honeydew pulled at Lalna’s coat, completely ignoring the strange stains, and pressed a distracted kiss to Lalna’s cheek.

 

“Come back whenever, okay?” Lalna grinned at them, though he spoke as if to address them both. The sun was edging even closer from the sky. The gloomy but familiar shades sparked something like terror in Xephos and he suddenly realized why Honeydew was in such a hurry.

 

“We will!” And with that, Honeydew led Xephos back home, the image of their kiss searing into Xephos’ mind. He was thankfully too distracted to notice the zombie skirting the edge of the forest, waiting for the burning sun to disappear, but the cold darkness was so much like the first night that he almost felt ill. Soon, however, the trees around them became familiar and within minutes Honeydew was slamming the wooden door shut behind themself. Xephos stared at them and they stared back.

 

Finally, Honeydew cracked a smile. “That was fun, yeah? How do you like Lalna?”

 

Xephos busied himself with tugging off his jacket. “I loved it!” he gushed. It was the first time he’d ever just sat down and talked with people, especially ones that didn’t want to kill him. Lalna was almost the polar opposite of Honeydew yet exactly the same. He looked forward to seeing him again. The stout scientist was charming and easy to trust; but, really, Xephos would trust anyone if Honeydew did.

 

“I’m glad then, friend.” Honeydew’s smile was as warm as the sun that had just set. “We’ll go again sometime, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUCH A LONG WAIT, I'M SORRY. this is just a chapter i threw together to introduce Lalna, idk when i'll update again but hopefully it will be shorter than this time's wait. again this is not really part of the SoI plot just loosely based on their world. kinda.

**Author's Note:**

> this might update a little slowly, but I'm hoping to have at least a LITTLE bit of plot soon.


End file.
